


Sweet Dreams are Made of This

by kimmins



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dream Sex, F/M, ambiguous partner, sex in tub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12806046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimmins/pseuds/kimmins
Summary: Bobo Del Rey very rarely dreamed and when he did it was never good.





	Sweet Dreams are Made of This

The air was muggy and Bobo could just make out the crackle of a fireplace somewhere to his right. His head was tipped back, eyes closed. He felt at ease. The hot water that filled the copper tub he was soaking in was slowly melting away the constant tension in his back. His elbows rested on the lip of the tub while the tips of his fingers trailed nonsense shapes into the surface of the steamy water. It was the most at peace he’d felt in a long while.

 

Which was his first clue that something wasn’t right. With a sigh he opened up his eyes. When that yielded no explanation he sat up and looked around the room.

 

“Well fuck,” Bobo cursed to himself before sagging back against the high back of the tub. It was a dream and he didn’t dream very often. Which was fine with him. When he did dream it was never good.

 

And it was so very obvious he was dreaming because he was supposed to be bathing in a bordello. And the man once known as Robert Svane had never been in a bordello in this life or the one before it. He’d been too much the Good Christian Man before he was cursed to sully his soul with vices of the flesh. And once he’d come back it was really more an issue of bad timing than lack of interest.  

 

So his frame of reference for what a bordello looked like mostly came from various westerns and pictures he’d seen throughout the decades and was rather sparse in comparison to real experience. Which was reflected by the hazy details of the room. There was no real memories to back it up so those things were indistinct.

 

But what he did know was much more tangible. Like the tub, with the smell of the mineral laden water mixing with the tang of copper that he always felt was lacking when he took the opportunity to bathe instead of shower. Or the crackle of the fireplace that came from many a night reading by the fire. Even the distant sounds of laughter and music coming up from the saloon below were echoed from the times he’s rented rooms as a living man.

 

All things that he had experienced in life used to make his dream more solid.

 

But of course it wasn’t enough to fool him. Besides the setting, there was the fact that he was himself. He was an anachronism. Being himself as he was now made no sense in the timeframe of the dream and he was lucid enough to realize it but not enough to change it. If he was supposed to be Svane maybe he wouldn’t have gone lucid and he could have enjoyed the dream a bit more. As it was being himself had ruined it--

 

“Mr. Del Rey.” A sultry voice interrupted his train of thought and startled him into sitting up again, causing some of the water to slosh out as he looked for the source of the voice. As Bobo looked around a pretty young woman walked out from behind a dressing screen that suddenly existed opposite the tub. Huh.

 

He was in a bordello, of course there would be a woman. Suddenly the anachronism made more sense. Robert Svane never had the balls to do this. But this was right up Bobo Del Rey’s alley.

 

So he settled back against the tub, his arms going back up on the rim as he got comfortable. “Call me Bobo,” he said with a wicked smile and a quick gesture of his right hand.

 

The woman just gave him a coy little smile. “Well then, Bobo. Did you want me to wash your back?”

 

“I think there’s other things that could use your attention,” he said.

 

She gave him a wicked smile of her own. “Oh, I just bet there are.”

 

As she walked to the tub, hips swaying, he realized that her features were hazy. Not like the details of the room but more like several similar images superimposed over one another. Like she was made up of all the best features of all the women he’d ever been with. The perfect dream woman.

 

She had started stripping off clothing the closer she got until she was down to only a thin white garment as she stood next to the tub. Her thighs pressing into the lip of metal, the hem of her chemise brushing his knuckles of his right hand.

 

Bobo looked up at her as he let his fingers skim the soft flesh of her thigh, his eyes hungry. The feel of her was as clear as the hot water and metal cradling his body. He had plenty of memories about this.

 

While his fingers traced lines over her skin she reached up to let her hair down. It cascaded over her shoulders in waves of honey blonde that shifted to tight curls of light brown and settled into fine locks of deep sable. The colors and textures kept shifting until his mind seemed to find the perfect combination.

 

All the while Bobo never stopped touching her, drawing nonsense shapes into her skin. His hand trailing higher and higher under the chemis until she gasped. He breath going shallow as her eyes fluttered shut.

 

“I thought you said there were things that could use _my_ a-attention?” she asked breathily before he did something that had her gasping again.

 

A deep masculine chuckle filled the room. “Where’s the fun in that?” He asked her, his voice gone husky and rough as he watched her with hunger.

 

There was a small sound from her that had Bobo’s pulse jumping in his throat before she stepped back, putting her out of his reach. When he made to follow she playfully smacked at his hand.

 

“Now now. Enough of that.” she said as she took another step back. When he growled she just gave him a breathless laugh. “Oh I think we can do something we’d both enjoy a lot more.”

 

As he settled back he watched her with a wicked gleam in his eye. “I don’t know about you but I was enjoying that plenty.” He made sure to hold her gaze as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, savoring the phantom taste.  Her face flushing beautifully.

 

Bobo was a bit too amused with himself. But he was going to milk this dream for all it's worth before the other shoe dropped.

 

Of course his dream woman wouldn't just let him control the entire encounter. He enjoyed a little more give and take than that.

 

So instead of letting him fluster her more she said, “I think I have something that will keep you a bit more occupied,” before pulling her chemis off and letting it drop to the floor.

 

His mind pulled from the very best to craft the perfect body for him and Bobo nearly groaned at the sight.

 

“I can’t argue with that.” He held out his hand in invitation.   

 

She laughed happily as she took his hand and stepped carefully into the tub with him. The water overflowing to splash on the floor. Her thighs brushing his as she settled into his lap.

 

Once again the sensation of her skin sliding against his was as clear as day, even though the exact details of her face were still nebulous. But when she leaned in to kiss him the taste of her lips was better than he could have imagined. His mind pulling from every kiss, every mouth to create the best possible experience. It was enough to make him groan.

 

Which in turn had her humming in pleasure against his mouth. Her wet skin sliding against his, her hands cupping his jaw and running though his beard as his cupped her hips to pull her closer to him.

 

She fit against him perfectly. The feel of it was amazing and fueled his need and his hunger until he felt like he could devour her. And she gave as good as she got. Nipping a sucking at his neck in a way that had him groaning. Had him aching for her.

 

She was exactly what he needed, what he wanted. What he’d always wanted. And it was intoxicating.

 

He was so caught up in her that he didn’t notice the shift between them. Notice that the hunger had softened. It hadn’t diminished, if anything the need was more intense. But there was a sharpness that was gone. That had settled into something almost sweet.

 

And it wasn’t until she was running her fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp that he realized anything had changed. Because as Bobo Del Rey he didn’t have hair you could do that to. But Robert Svane did.

 

It was enough of a surprise that he pulled away from her mouth panting. When he realized her features were fuzzier than before he was confused. What was going on?

 

“Robert, are you okay?” His dream woman asked, her tone softer than it had been earlier.

 

The use of that name made it clear that things had shifted. And so had he. Gone was the mass he’d had as Bobo. The body that sat in the copper tub was lean and wiry instead. It was body he hadn’t seen in ages. The body of Robert Svane.

 

Delicate hands cupped his face. “Robert?” Even with her face out of focus he could see the concern of her face. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

 

Bobo wasn’t certain. Looking around he noticed a small stool placed on the left side of the tub. On it were a pair of familiar spectacles. As he reached out for them he responded “No, no. Only I want to see you.”

 

“Well I’m sure you could see me fine enough,” she said with a throaty chuckle.  The she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “You didn’t have to stop.”  

 

“I know, but I just wanted to really see your face when,”  he paused as he pulled on his glasses, “when we are together.” He gave her an embarrassed little grin as he took in her features now that he could see.

 

Gone was the seductress from earlier, and the room in the bordello. And in their place was a wife and family home. Things he could have had. Things he had wanted. Things he had dreamed about.

 

Oh but this was a cruel dream.

 

The whore turned wife twined her arms around his neck and hitched her hips closer. Again water splashed out of the tub and the feeling of her slick skin against his was almost overwhelming.

 

“Well, now that you can see me clearly,” she murmured to him, “why don’t you make good on your promise husband.” She ground herself down on him as she said it.

 

Robert moaned. Everything was heat. The water, their skin, her. Their mouths met again, that sweet hunger building up so very quickly. His hands scrabbled for purchase on her hips, too eager to get her where they both needed her.

 

Not soon enough for either of them, they managed to shift just right in the still steaming water. Robert groaned into his wife’s neck, too overcome to do much more than clutch her to him. She on the other hand whimpered and tried to move. Eager to keep going.

 

“Please Robert.” she begged and he was helpless against it.

 

Soon water was sloshing over the edge of the tub and onto the floor. Gasps and groans competed with sighs and moans in the small room.

 

Robert was lost in his wife. Lost in the love he could feel from her. Lost in the knowledge that this was everything he wanted. What he could have had if he had never been cursed.

 

A loving wife that he could love. Could be with always. Could possibly start a family with. And here in this dream he could have it. Robert, who was also Bobo, who was cursed to hell and back, didn’t want this to end. He wanted to stay.

 

But it was all too much. Too fast, too good. The way his wife clutched at him, the way she moaned in his ear, the way she kissed him. It was all too much and it was all going to end too soon.

 

“Oh please Robert.” She begged one last time before--

 

Banging on the door to his trailer startled Bobo awake. His head jerked up off the pillow he had clutched to his chest. There was a moment of silence before the banging started up again. The noise loud enough on it's own but then someone had started calling for him too. “Boss. Hey Boss.”

 

Bobo contemplated just rolling over onto his back and smothering himself with his pillow. But that would do jack all to end his suffering.

 

So with a sigh that felt like it came from his very soul, cursed as it was, he rolled off to the side of his bed and sat for a moment. He rubbed at his eyes, trying in vain to ignore the empty ache in his heart and the uncomfortable way his cock strained against his jeans. He was used to being tortured in his dreams but this was worse. He prefered pain to hope.

 

Again the pounding started up and he could feel his eyes go demonic, the burn in his back from his brand compounding the miserable feeling he had in his chest. It was tempting to tear his trailer apart in that moment.  But instead he got up,  threw on a semi-clean shirt and tugged on his boots.

 

Pulling on his favorite coat he went to open the door. He almost felt bad for whoever was on the other side. But he was in a bad mood and someone was going to pay for it. Because Bobo Del Rey very rarely dreamed and when he did it was never good. For anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to keep the woman and the time frame as ambiguous as I could so if your preference is Willa/Bobo you can totally picture her as his dream woman.


End file.
